Front Page Affair (7 page)

She remembered what it was like when his name hit the papers. The constant speculation about how long he'd be able to dodge the gold band. Nate was so good-looking. So charming and charismatic. His success and wealth growing exponentially, it seemed. The press was forever trying to marry him off, practically placing bets as each new female graced his arm.

“I'm sure your dates loved that. It must have been very awkward.” It certainly had been when she and Clint faced similar speculation.

“Some of them got the wrong idea.” He laughed at the sky and then turned a wry smile on her. “Some had the wrong idea from the start. Honestly, that kind of constant speculation…” He let out a grunt. “It's not like I had a mind for love and marriage before all that, so it didn't take much to turn me off completely.”

“But…the right girl?”

“Payton, there are a million ‘right' girls. Right for right now. But it doesn't last with me.”

“And you still would have married Annegret? You could have lived like that?” She shook her head, fighting the urge to press her hand against the center of his chest. “Without love?”

Nate let out a short laugh. “It's called responsibility. It's not always fun. But it's necessary. Besides, I've lived without falling in ‘love' this long,” he said, making the taboo emotion sound like something toxic. “I don't want it.”

That much was clear. Even so, she couldn't help but wonder… How many women before her had inadvertently given Nate Evans their heart? And had any of them gotten it back?

T
HE
temperature had dropped with the afternoon sun, and Nate stood at the rear of his car shaking out the sand from the blanket while Payton sat bundled in the front seat. The roof was up and the heater on. Still, she was chilled and he'd wrapped her into a spare fleece he kept in the trunk. She'd looked fragile tucked into the expanse of his oversized pullover. Like something to shelter. Take into his arms and hold.

Which was nuts. Closing the trunk, he rounded to the driver's side door and levered into his seat.

Payton smiled over at him, then nodded back at the darkening sky. “Beautiful, isn't it?”

Her curls were wild with wind-blown abandon. Her cheeks alive with the pink flush of exertion. “Yes. Breathtaking.”

Her gaze dropped to her lap, to where only the tips of her fingers peeked from the ends of cuffed sleeves. A sure sign of the nerves he really shouldn't take such satisfaction in stirring.

“Thank you for bringing me out here.”

“It was my pleasure. Been a long time since I was here myself. I guess being around you's making me sort of nostalgic.”

She smiled, still not meeting his eyes. “Me, too.”

The parking lot was deserted. The interior of the car cozy
and intimate. He didn't want to admit just how nostalgic he'd become for things from his high-school past—like long wet kisses and getting naked in the back seat by the beach. Didn't want to admit even to himself how tempting the idea of slipping his fingers into those soft curls and pulling her over him had become.

But making out was a bad idea, and for more reasons than he was six foot five and this was a stick shift convertible with a back seat too small to accommodate a dog. Payton wasn't the kind of woman Nate normally dated. His relationships were short-term and emotionally barren—the women he indulged in them with all too quickly forgotten. And while the sex from the night before had definitely been of the no-strings variety, Payton would never go for something so shallow on an ongoing basis. Hell, he wouldn't want her to. One night, sure. There'd been an attraction and they both understood the parameters, but that kind of mutual attraction would be dangerous to exploit. He couldn't give her serious and she didn't deserve anything less.

And what was more, she was right about there being friendship between them. A bond unique to her. Something he'd missed over the years without exactly understanding why. But now that they had it back, he wouldn't take it lightly.

And Payton was of a similar mind.

Mostly.

He'd seen the way her gaze drifted to his mouth periodically throughout the day. And he'd seen the way she wrenched it away. The quick shake of her head and even quicker redirect to topics of a non-sexually charged nature. She was on board with the plan. The friends plan.

And yet, even knowing sex wasn't how he wanted the relationship to go, the dark fringe of her lashes, the pout of her bottom lip, even the way her bare feet were tucked beneath
her—all of those details had somehow slipped under his skin, calling to a part of him that wasn't platonic.

Maybe it was the environment. He'd brought dates here a time or two. Set up a tent and lost himself in their willing bodies.

Only he wasn't thinking about the dates whose names he could barely remember. He was thinking about Payton. About the sound of her sigh at his ear as he pushed inside her. The clutch of her fingers in his hair as he took her against the wall. The way she cried out when he gave her his mouth—

Not where his mind ought to be going.

Not when Payton had felt his gaze on her and turned those soft brown eyes to meet his. Not when the music of the crashing surf was playing for them and the just-one-night they'd agreed to in a moment of more defined clarity than this had come and gone.

Damn it. Until Payton, friendship and sex had always been mutually exclusive. There'd never been a blurring of the line between the two, so he didn't have any experience with the complication she presented now.

Nate gave himself a firm mental shake. One thing he did know. Friends used their mouths for
talking
. So, fingers wrapped around the steering wheel, he forced his gaze to the road and talked. “Tuesday, the charity event.”

Payton shifted around until her knees tucked up and her back half pressed against the passenger door. “We'll arrive separately. Maintain a decent distance throughout.”

“Though you find it impossible to keep your eyes off me,” he amended, just for kicks.

She snickered. “Is that so?”

“Absolutely. I'm temptation incarnate,” he answered, heading for the highway, doing his best to ignore the temptation he wanted no part of in the seat beside him.

 

By the time they arrived back at Payton's apartment the tension that filled the car when they'd once again found themselves in close proximity had dissipated. They'd made their plans for Tuesday night and fallen into an easy discussion for the remainder of the ride.

Laughing, talking, catching up on the years that had passed them by.

Nate was interested in her teaching. In her plans. Curious about how she'd gotten into the field of special education and not the least bit concerned about the pay or prestige of the school. He simply made her feel good about her choices and, being the only one, it made all the difference.

She unbuckled as he jogged around the car. A steady rain had begun to fall, and though she'd been more than willing to dash into her apartment alone, Nate wouldn't have it.

So without benefit of umbrella, he let her out and ran up the walk beside her.

Rushing to the security door, she tried the key, fumbled and tried again, giving into a frustrated growl as her clumsiness got the both of them a soak. The chill that settled in at the beach was back in full force, making her fingers stiff and useless.

“Here, let me.” A warm hand closed around hers and the blanket of wide male torso covered her back as he created a haven for her with his body.

He felt good. Strong and right. Close. Hot.

Oh, God. She'd been so confident. So sure of her ability to handle her emotions where Nate was concerned.
She'd handled them for years!
But now it didn't take more than one touch and her mind and body began their fast descent into bedroom territory.
Wall
territory.

Of course, what she'd been handling ten years ago had been the infatuation of a high-school girl—passionate and
dramatic, yes, but ultimately only as deep as the girl herself. Which, at sixteen…

And then there was the little matter of ignorance versus experience. Now that she'd spent a night in his arms, she knew exactly what there was to miss. The heat of his hands, the taste of his skin, the touch of his mouth. Knowing he was more than she'd ever fantasized he would be.

The lock tumbled and Nate pushed the door open and then, following her into the relative warmth of the stairwell, he rubbed her shoulders in a few rough strokes.

“You're soaked.”

“Me? What about you?” Rainwater beaded across the light cashmere covering his shoulders and back. Darkened the gold of his hair, weighing it down against his brow to give him a sort of Superman curl that begged to be twisted around her finger.

He waved her off with one hand, taking her elbow in the other. “Let's get you upstairs before you freeze.”

Payton stalled. “I can manage. You should get home, though.”

Nate's lips curved into a wry twist. “I'll walk you up. Security, remember?”

She did remember. Only the last thing she wanted was Nate back in her apartment. They'd had an incredible afternoon together, but the underlying sizzle of attraction she'd nearly doused had begun to flame again. She didn't want to acknowledge it. Not after the way they'd talked and laughed. She didn't want anything threatening the easy camaraderie.

Still, what could she say? Nate had a way of getting what he wanted. And he wanted to make sure she got into her apartment safely. But he couldn't come in. No matter what. Because if he did, she'd be offering him a drink while he warmed up. Offering to dry his shirt. Offering to help him
take if off. Offering everything she had and was. No, he couldn't come in.

She led the way, their quiet tread upon the stairs screaming volumes in the silence. Finally, reaching the landing, she closed her eyes and took a bracing breath. Opened them and turned to Nate. He stood, hands in his pockets, one shoulder propped against the wall.

“Don't worry. I'm not coming in.”

“What? I wasn't—”

He shook his head, cutting her off. “Yeah, I think you were.”

Her lips parted in protest, but quickly closed again.

He took a deep breath and shifted his weight, glancing down the empty stairwell. “We were together last night, Payton. It's a safe bet we're looking at more than twelve hours to kick whatever residual attraction there is between us back into something safe and platonic. Look, I know what happened between us was different for you. And for what it's worth, it was different for me, too. So maybe we shouldn't worry about a few rogue emotions or whatever we've got going on. If we give it some time the attraction'll die off.”

She wanted to believe him. Only she knew from experience that some attractions had staying power for
years.
“What if it doesn't?”

His lips twisted into a wry smile. “Well, then, I guess we'll cross that bridge when we come to it.”

She shook her head. She needed this. “I want us to be friends.”

“Yeah.” He let out a low chuckle as if somehow surprised to find it so. “I do, too. Now get inside before I back you in there myself and ruin this whole buddy-buddy plan we've got going on. I'll see you Tuesday.”

G
LASSES
clinked, laughter rose and the poignant melody of “Unforgettable” wound around her like a soothing embrace. Inspired by the classic song and its apt description of her past week, Payton swayed with each step on her way to the bar. She could feel the looks. Sense the questions multiplying around her. Heard one woman's sharp, “What?” rise above the din.

She'd been identified—through process of elimination and then conspicuous absence—as Nate's bridesmaid from the back hall, and word had been spreading like whispered wildfire for days. Already she'd faced the most brazen of her social set, descending upon her arrival with horrified expressions and ghastly rumors.

Of course
they
wouldn't believe such nonsense about Payton, but she deserved to know what people were saying…

She responded with the appropriate denials and a flicker of nerves to feed suspicions, then beat a hasty exit, not trusting herself to fight the obnoxious grin threatening to take over her face. Now all she had to do was follow the plan, drop enough subtle hints with Nate to confirm what her reputation was leading people to reject—and Nate's secret would be safe, buried beneath the rubble of Perfect Payton's good-girl reputation.

“What'll you have, miss?”

The bar was stocked with all the top-shelf labels and an
assortment of excellent vintages including a nice Italian white she kept at home. “The Pinot, please.”

A glass was in her hand within seconds and, moving to a quiet corner a few feet off, she sipped, her mind bent to the task of fueling the frenzy of gossip already buzzing around her. The wine was cool and refreshing with a hint of fruity sweetness. A perfect complement to the spice of scandal.

Only then a nervous sense of anticipation swirled through her belly, spreading out until it licked over her skin. Nate.

Lifting her gaze, she found him in an instant, dressed in an immaculately cut white dinner jacket, exchanging greetings with the owner of a bank a few feet from the main entrance. A flash of brilliant blue locked on her, held her rapt, inciting a sudden panic at the betraying heat flaring to life from one look alone.

She stood arrested beneath Nate's considering scrutiny until a feral gleam lit his eyes and the corner of his mouth curved into a dark smile that touched her from clear across the room. Made her shudder.

Not platonic. Not by a long shot. But not for the crowd or the press or protecting a secret either.

What a mess.

She
needed
his friendship. Was desperate for it. But the pull of this attraction between them was playing with her body and mind, and it hadn't died off in the slightest.

To go on as friends after a single night together was one thing, but if that single night turned into a string of nights, a week, a month—something finite, because she knew without question Nate wasn't interested in forever—what would she be left with when it was done?

The press having a field day splashing her face across the rags. Speculating on why she couldn't hold a man like him. Comparing her to whatever bit of glitz he picked up next.
Dredging up Clint and then demanding to know what she'd been thinking.

Who was she kidding?

That was exactly what she'd signed on for the moment she'd given into Nate's kiss, agreeing to go along with the pretense of this affair. Only in the original scenario, she'd have known in her heart it was all a farce. And as it stood now, she was looking at certain heartbreak…
If she gave in.

Her eyes closed as the weight of the moment settled around her.

Nate wanted her. She wanted friendship.

She didn't stand a chance. Because deep in her heart she wanted way more than that.

Blinking open, she found the tilt to Nate's lips evened, the brilliant blue of his stare gone flat and focused behind her. Her stomach tensed—

“What the hell's going on, Payton?” The question came quiet and accusing from the one person she hadn't considered through all of this.

“Clint.” She spun to face him, heat prickling her cheeks as she faced the man she'd nearly married. Tall, with a lean but healthy build, Clint was typically a well-ordered man. Tucked in. Buttoned down. Only this evening, all of that perfection seemed to have slipped the slightest degree. “I didn't know you'd be here tonight. I thought—”

He cut her off with the wave of a hand. “We finished in New York early so I'm back in town.” Through with the pleasantries, he glared down at her. “Do you know what people are saying?”

She bristled at his tone of affront and the disapproving glint in his eyes. He had no right. They'd ended the relationship six months before and she knew for a fact he hadn't been sitting home alone that whole time. “People are always saying something. It doesn't matter.”

“It matters to me, Payton. What they say about
you
definitely matters to me.”

More to the point, it
reflected
on him. That was what this was about. What everything was about.

His hands went to his jacket, where he adjusted the hang, checked the button. All the while, his gaze tracked over her head, scanning the room behind her. “What are you even doing with Nate Evans?”

Her fingers tightened around the stem of her glass. “Nate and I are friends.”

Clint's eyes narrowed. The lines at his mouth pulling down. “No, you aren't. Brandt hates him, and in the years we've been together I can't remember you exchanging more than a passing hello.”

She opted to let the answer sit. The seconds ticked past as each waited for the other to back down. It wouldn't be her.

His chin jerked back, his brow furrowed and he reached for her arm. “You can't be serious.”

“I'm sorry. I should have called you so you didn't find out this way.”

“What are you trying to prove, Payton?” Anger flashed in his eyes as the grip at her elbow tightened; she winced, trying to pull free. “He's a player. A
predator
. The last thing you are to Nate Evans is his friend. Mark my words,” he hissed, “you're nothing more than a f—”

Tension snapped through the air and a wall of solid muscle closed in behind her. “That's enough, Clint,” Nate cut in, his voice deadly low and serious.

Clint's hand released her, his eyes widening as she rubbed her arm then seeking hers apologetically for the unrecognized force of his hold. Taking a step back, he smoothed his jacket as a flush of pink tinged his cheekbones.

“Evans, this is a matter I need to settle with Payton. I'd appreciate it if you gave us a few minutes.”

Nate leveled him with an unyielding stare, pulling Payton into his side. “No.”

Clint seemed to gauge the moment, notice the growing attention surrounding them, and shook his head. “Payton, this is a mistake.”

If she gave in, he would be right. Her heart would pay for her body's wants. But regardless of her personal indecision, publicly she was committed. “It's my mistake to make.”

He held her stare a moment. His features hardening as he acknowledged with a terse nod.

And then he was gone. Retreating through the crowd, offering arm claps and boisterous laughter by way of damage control as he went. Stopping for only one furtive glance back.

“You okay?” Nate asked, a single vein throbbing in his neck as he ran his big hands gently over the place where Clint had bruised her.

Payton placed her palm at the center of his chest, felt the violent punch of his heart beneath. The tight rein on his fury as he fought for control. “I'm fine. Clint wouldn't hurt me.”

She took a deep breath as Nate's arm crossed her back, his hand settling possessively at the flare of her hip. It was obvious and so good and not at all what they'd discussed. “I thought the plan was to keep some distance. Play hard to get with the press?”

Nate peered down at her tucked beneath his arm. Wide brown eyes met his and he felt the pull of them straight through the center of his body. A little too far north of his belt for his comfort, truth be told, but it was there nonetheless. “The plan changed.”

Yeah, like the second that jerk touched her. But in all honesty, things were pretty shaky before that. “Clint just gave us the perfect opportunity to bring this to a head… Tell me to get the hell away from you.”

She jerked out of his hold. “You're pretend breaking up with me?”

As furious as Clint had made him, he couldn't help but smile at the indignation in her expression and tone. “No, princess. I'm not pretend breaking up with you. To the contrary, we're going to have our first public spat. And then I'm hauling you out of here to pretend make up with you.”

The corner of her mouth twitched with the amusement overtaking the tension of a moment ago. “What exactly is involved in pretending to make up?”

He leaned that much closer, absorbing the rising heat from her skin. “Tell me to walk away and you'll find out.” Her eyes widened, pooling dark at his proximity. Giving into the pull of her so close, Nate brushed his knuckles across her shoulder, over the tiny strap of her black dress. “Tell me to keep my hands to myself before someone realizes what's going on.”

Her arms crossed as she gave him her shoulder and spoke toward the crowd using one of those hushed tones that sounded convincing but still managed to carry. “You need to stop. Walk away, Nate.”

“Do I?” He let out a gruff laugh followed by a deep sigh, close enough to her ear to stir the fine hairs around it. “Why?”

She shivered. “Someone will notice.”

It was exactly what was happening. More eyes turned their way with every passing second. “Mmm, notice how close I'm standing? How long we've been talking? The rapid rise and fall of your chest? Your heightened color suggesting an escalated pulse? Are they going to notice that I want you…or that you want me?”

She spun back to him, face flushed, lips parted with a frustrated plea that flickered between hostility and desire.

“Nate…”

He caught her chin in his palm, lowering his face to within an inch of hers. “Let them see. I'm done playing games.”

Turning her cheek into his hand, she peered up at him and countered, “You never stop playing games.”